


Just You

by moonstruckhargrove



Series: The Billy Hargrove Chronicles [10]
Category: Stranger Things - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Language, Light Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 00:52:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstruckhargrove/pseuds/moonstruckhargrove
Summary: Friends with benefits never ends well.





	Just You

“Billy,” you moaned, your head falling back as Billy’s tongue delved between your folds. Your hands tightened on the headboard as your hips rocked against his mouth. His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips, imprinting bruises for tomorrow that would remind you of tonight.

He moaned around your heat as he felt your walls clenching around his tongue, quickening his movements as warmth pooled in your belly. You were nearly there, only a few talented strokes away from a mind-shattering orgasm. When he replaced his tongue with two thick fingers, curling and scissoring them inside you, and flicked his tongue back and forth against your clit, you were lost.

You came around his mouth with a long, low moan that sent a shockwave of lust straight to his dick. Your hips stuttered in their rhythm as you rode his face, one hand coming off the headboard to tangle his curly hair, dampened against his forehead, to keep him in place. Your thighs shook with the strength of your orgasm, and you swore you saw stars.

Billy licked a long stripe up your slit. You hissed at the sensitivity and slid down his body to lay over his chest, breathing heavily but in pure bliss.

“Holy shit,” you whispered. He chuckled lowly, the sound reverberating in his chest. You felt his lips on your forehead and closed your eyes, sighing happily.

“You still got a round in you darlin’?” he growled lowly, making a point to thrust his denim-clad length up into your heat, still quivering from the pleasure.

You huffed a laugh and sat up, bracing your hands on his bare chest. “For you? Of course I do.”

At the darkening of his eyes, you made quick work of his jeans and boxers, tossing them to join the pile of clothing beside your bed. You pumped his length, drawing a growl from his chest, and your thumb spread the gathering pre-cum around the tip. He hissed and cursed under his breath, lifting his hips in rhythm with your hand.

“Come on, doll, don’t tease me now,” he said breathlessly, his eyes fluttering closed. With a devious smile you lifted your hips and guided him to your entrance, sliding slowly down his length. Billy’s head flew back against the pillows, his hands once again finding purchase on your hips.

You sank lower until he was sheathed inside you to the hilt, and the low moan that you pulled from him as you moved slowly over him had you trembling yet again. You rolled and circled your hips, sighing and mewling as his pubic bone pressed against your sensitive clit.

Billy wasn’t normally a gentle lover; sex with him was usually frantic, wild, and bruising. He left bright red and purple marks all over your body, branding you, and he’d nearly put a hole in the wall from fucking you into the mattress so hard the headboard slammed against the wall in his bedroom.

But as your midnight couplings continued, you taught him how powerful and mind-blowing slow, tantalizing sex could be. It quickly became one of his favorites, and nothing was more of a turn on to him than watching you ride him slow but hard, impaling yourself on his dick as your nails dug half-moons into his chest.

Your moans were growing higher pitched as your hips rolled faster, guided by Billy’s hands on your hips. Your hair was wild around your face, eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure. Billy lifted himself off the bed to latch his mouth onto one of your pert nipples, biting gently and soothing the sharp sting with his tongue. He moaned against your skin as your walls clenched around him and a lascivious mewl left your mouth.

He did it again, receiving the same beautiful noise and nearly coming right then and there.

“Jesus, doll,” he groaned, reaching up to pull your mouth to his in a searing kiss. He swallowed your moan, tangling his tongue with yours and moved you even faster over his length.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m gonna come,” you moaned against his mouth. Dropping a hand between you, his thumb rubbed tight, fast circles over your clit.

“Then come, darlin’.” The demand was enough to push you right over the edge, and you came again with a cry against his mouth.

Billy flipped you onto your back, barely breaking rhythm to guide you through your orgasm, and his pace became brutal. His hips snapped against yours so hard that your headboard banged against the wall as he chased his own release. He came with a growl that he muffled into your neck, his thrusts become erratic, stuttered as he emptied himself inside of you.

He fell gently onto your chest, panting heavily against your neck as you came down from your highs. Sex with Billy was never boring, but tonight felt different, at least for you.

“Fuck, doll,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Laying a kiss to your neck, he recovered quickly and withdrew from you with a hiss. He climbed off you, heading to your window to smoke in all of his naked glory.

You watched him with stars in your eyes, taking in his perfect, godlike form that made you feel like a real woman. He turned his head to glance over at you, winking with a smirk around his cigarette, and inhaled deeply. He tossed the finished butt out the window and turned to begin gathering his clothes.

An ache settled in your chest and you didn’t have to think twice when you asked, “Will you stay tonight?”

He glanced at you briefly before dropping back to the floor to search for his shirt. “You know that’s not me, doll.”

Of course you knew. You knew what this was when you started, knew Billy didn’t do attachment or relationships. But it still didn’t stop you from falling for him. The rough exterior he bore at school and with his friends disappeared when he was with you; he was his own person, soft, kind, and more caring than he was willing to show. He treated you as if he could love you, and knowing he wouldn’t made your eyes sting.

You looked up at the ceiling, attempting to stop the tears from falling, and fortunately, Billy was too busy dressing to really notice. You managed to make your face neutral as he finished tying his boots and leaned over to kiss your forehead, ignoring the longing look in your eyes.

You watched him climb through your window without a backwards glance, and when his Camaro roared down the street, you let yourself cry over unrequited love.

It was bitch, unrequited love. It snuck up on you and slammed into with all the force of a wrecking ball, shattering any resolve you had that told you it was a bad idea.

At school during the next week, Billy ignored you, pretended as if he hadn’t spent the last few nights tangled up in your sheets and in your heart. At first you were fine with it. You knew his reputation meant a lot to him, and you knew that every time you had sex it was merely an outlet for all of his aggression.

Now his dismissal of you cut a bit deeper, rubbed salt in an already festering wound inside your chest. He didn’t spare you a glance as you stopped at your locker that was situated directly across the hall from his. He was too wrapped up in curling Bethany Johnson’s hair around his finger, giving her his thousand-watt grin that you stupidly thought was reserved for you.

You kept your eyes cast downward as you closed your locker and walked out of school for the day. Billy didn’t even glance up.

Between the time it took you to walk from the school to your car at the far end of the lot, you promised yourself you’d stop letting him into your bedroom, into your heart, even though the bastard had all of it already. You couldn’t bear the thought of knowing he’d never return your affections; it was doing you no good to dwell on something that would never be.

He showed up that night, surprised to find that your window was locked. You were buried under blankets, he could see your form breathing deeply in sleep. He didn’t recognize the sharp pain in his chest when he realized you wouldn’t be letting him in. He didn’t knock, didn’t do anything to try and wake you. Instead, he climbed down off the roof and drove away.

He told himself he was fine with spending the night instead with Bethany Johnson, but Bethany was a shrieker. Her moans sounded too forced and she didn’t have the rhythm and grace you did as she rode him in the driver’s seat. The marks he left on her skin didn’t give him the same satisfaction as when he saw them littered on your body, letting him and everyone else know that you belonged to Billy.

Bethany didn’t come despite her best efforts to fake it, and Billy’s own orgasm was lackluster at best, which was a rarity for him. He had to bite back a grimace as Bethany giggled and played with the earring dangling from his left ear. He took her home, made an empty promise of seeing her again, and pretended it didn’t bother him that he didn’t have the scent of you to lull him to sleep.

He went about school like he always did, except now he pretended he felt nothing when you walked by him in the hallway and didn’t even look at him. He pretended to be interested in the stories his friends told, pretended that he was looking forward to defending his title as Keg King at the rager next weekend.

He pretended that he didn’t feel a void in his chest in the shape of you, pretended not to care that you continued to lock your windows and even went so far as to draw your curtains so he couldn’t even see you if he came by.

Meanwhile, you pretended to be asleep each time he climbed up to your window, the lights out and your breathing even despite the pace your heart was beating inside your chest. It hurt each time he gave up and left; you acknowledged it, accepted it, and pushed it away.

You did this constantly each time you saw Billy or heard him at your window. Your heart begged you to let him in, let him continue to play you like a puppet on his strings, but your head was winning out with common sense.

He’s not the one for you. He isn’t right for you. He won’t love you.

So he stopped coming. And you pretended to ignore the hole in your chest in the shape of him.

You avoided one another, even more so than usual, but no one else suspected a thing. Until Billy caught himself staring at you longer and longer the more you pretended he didn’t exist. Carol picked up on it first, catching him watching you across the cafeteria at lunch, but surprisingly, she stayed silent.

Tommy wasn’t so respectful when he noticed he’d lost Billy’s attention so the older boy could watch you walk across the parking lot, a look on his face Tommy had never seen before. Then the teasing started, and Billy had to try really hard not to punch Tommy’s front teeth out, but when he said something nasty about you, he lost it.

You pretended to ignore the sound of the scuffle across the lot. Billy wasn’t your business or your problem anymore, and your heart hurt a little less when you walked away this time.

Each day you thought you’d made progress in getting over Billy, he’d found a way to remind you that you hadn’t. His latest reminder came in the form of a bruised and bloodied face at your bedroom window and your fool heart wouldn’t let you ignore this.

So with that ache in your chest increasing tenfold with each step you took towards the window, you let him in. Helped him climb gingerly through the frame to sit on the bench beneath the window.

“What happened?” you asked lowly, wringing your hands in front of you to keep from touching him. His head stayed bowed, as if you hadn’t already seen the damage.

“Why do you lock your window?” he retorted instead. Inhaling sharply, you felt the painful tug of your heart as it yearned for him. Dropping your eyes, you took a few steps away from him, needing to put distance between you.

Billy didn’t miss it, but he pretended it didn’t bother him.

“I can’t sleep with you anymore Billy.” You always believed honesty was the highest road, even if it was blunt honesty. Billy snorted and then winced as it put strain on his busted nose.

“I figured that. But….why? I thought we were having fun.”

“It stopped being fun,” you muttered. Billy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “It stopped being just an outlet for me, Billy. I can’t do that anymore.”

Billy was smart, smarter than he let show, and it didn’t take him very long to put two and two together about your explanation. When he did he pretended that his heart didn’t gallop in his chest, pretended that he suddenly felt light, as if he could float away. He just stared at you as you fidgeted across your bedroom, uncomfortable under his stare.

With new purpose he stood up and crossed the short distance between you. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, your fingertips burning with the desire to pull him to you and forget why you pushed him away in the first place. But you stood still, stiff as a statue, waiting for him to move.

Two of his fingers tucked under your chin and pressed upwards, forcing you to look up at him, at his bruised face, and you couldn’t resist the urge to reach up and gently run your hands over the scrapes and bruises. His eyes fluttered closed at the contact, and he leaned into your palm. All of a sudden he was done pretending.

With agility that surprised you, he curled an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, slanting his mouth over yours before you had a chance to say anything. You hated the way your body immediately responded to him, sighing into his mouth and softening against his touch. 

It didn’t escape you that this kiss was different from others you’d shared. It was slow, passionate, an outpouring of emotion that he couldn’t say with words. And you knew.

Pulling away, you pressed on his chest to back him up a step. He frowned down at you, pleading with his eyes to not push him away again.

“I can’t, Billy. Not unless you mean it,” you said, your voice shaking. His hands came up to grasp your face, and yours held onto his wrists.

“I mean it, Y/N. I was stupid, and it took me a stupid long time to figure it out, but I mean it. I want you, all of you, and not just at night. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry for everything.”

You were dizzy with every word he was saying, your knees buckling so that you sagged against his chest. The lingering looks you pretended to ignore hadn’t been just because he’d missed a warm body; he’d missed _you_.

You spent the past few weeks trying to get over him, distancing yourself further and further, and finally you were healing, feeling normal again and not like some pathetic lovesick teenager. Then Billy had to barge in and destroy the wall you built up around your heart, had to tell you that he felt the same as you did.

It was all too overwhelming, and you had to sit back on your bed before you fell over. Billy was right there with you, kneeling in front of you with your face in his hands, waiting for you to pull it together.

“When did you realize it?” you questioned. Billy didn’t need clarification.

“The first night you locked me out,” he admitted sheepishly. You exhaled deeply. He’d known, and he hadn’t come to you.

“Why now?” you demanded, feeling a surge of confident frustration. Billy fell back on his ass as you jumped up from the bed, no longer dizzy but angry. “You’ve known for _weeks_  and you’re just coming to me now? You said you didn’t want commitment, Billy! That night, that last night, I asked you to stay, and you didn’t. I basically laid myself out there for you and you just walked away. Why the hell should I even let you stay in here a moment longer? Do you know how badly I was hurting, knowing I couldn’t just keep you to myself? It took me forever to get over it, get over you, and just when I’m doing okay, you’re here, telling me you’ve felt the same way for _weeks_! What am I supposed to do with that, Billy? Because I don’t have a goddamn clue.”

You weren’t sure when you started crying, but the tears were coming fast and heavy, and Billy stared up at you from the floor. He didn’t know how to respond, so he scrambled to his feet and pulled you against him, murmuring apologies into your hair. His hands roved every inch of you, your hair, your back, your waist.

“I’m so sorry I was such an idiot, baby. Please forgive me,” Billy pleaded, sounding on the verge of tears himself. “I was stupid. I didn’t think I could care about anyone like this, but I do, and it’s _you_ , okay? It’s just you.”

Anger be damned, you mauled him with a bruising kiss, feeling the first burst of happiness in weeks. You knew he could taste your tears but he didn’t care; he crushed you to him, nearly cutting off your air supply, as his mouth moved with yours.

With Billy beside you in bed that night, you slept better than you had in weeks, knowing his was yours. Just yours.


End file.
